


Tonight

by saradise48



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Connor and Dylan still play hockey but it's high school level, Getting Together, M/M, Pining, defenestration as a theme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-09 23:29:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8917381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saradise48/pseuds/saradise48
Summary: “Mitch said—Mitch said you were being so careful with taking care of me and making sure I wasn’t dying with that fucking boot on my foot because you’re in love with me.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who's back again with more Connor and Dylan??
> 
> Inspired loosely by the MCR line, "Remember when you broke your foot from jumping out the second floor?"

Connor and Dylan had fallen asleep to GTA V, tangled together on the couch in Connor’s room on a Tuesday night. No way Connor was ashamed though, not of Dylan who had quickly become his best friend by the start of school hockey in October of last year, their junior year. They had been inseparable all of last year, at school, at home and on the rink, when coach had put them on the same line as an experiment and ended up making Connor believe in magic. 

He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when Dylan had become more to him. But Connor remembered how after a week apart during the first part of winter break, his heart had clenched as he _really_ saw Dylan for the first time when he showed up at Connor’s house an hour after getting home from his family’s vacation. Mitch and Brinksy had made fun of him relentlessly after they saw the fondness in Connor’s expression as he watched Dylan head to class sometime two months ago in February. He just didn’t have the nerve to do anything about it. 

Dylan had snuck out of Connor’s room through the window dozens of times during the school year, and even more over the summer before the start of junior year. But of course the one time he decided to fuck up his landing by glancing back at Connor at the last second had to be at one in the morning. 

“Dyls, what the fuck?” Connor called as quietly as possible through the window down to where Dylan was laying in Connor’s front lawn.

“Shut up, asshole,” was the response he got from Dylan below him. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I landed on my ankle sideways, Davo, you dick. So, no.”

Connor cursed to himself as he scrambled to put on a pair of shoes, then rushed down the stairs, trying to not make too much noise as he did. He scribbled out a note to his parents and grabbed his keys before getting to Dylan where he still sat on Connor’s front lawn, holding his ankle. “Hey, come on, we’re going to the hospital. Can you put weight on it?” he asked as he hauled Dylan up. When he tried to put pressure on his foot, he hissed in pain. “That would be a no, then.”

“This is your fault,” Dylan mumbled when he was standing and leaning heavily against Connor’s side. But he was laughing and when Connor looked at him, he rolled his eyes, slinging his arm across Connor’s shoulder. They limped awkwardly together to Connor’s car, Dylan’s ankle getting jostled as he lowered himself into the seat. 

“You’re the idiot who didn’t watch where he was going when he _jumped out of a second floor window.”_ Dylan scowled at him as he shut the door and walked over to the driver’s side. “How bad is it?” Connor asked, looking at Dylan next to him as he started the car. 

“On a scale of one to ten? My ankle feels like when Ryan slammed my foot into the goal post last summer during the street hockey tournament, so I’d say a seven.”

Connor nodded, backing out of his driveway and heading for the hospital. 

-

A while after they got admitted to a room in the ER, the doctor came in and told them Dylan had a grade II ankle sprain and would need crutches for the next couple of weeks while his ankle healed. 

Connor snickered as he followed behind Dylan struggling down the hall with his booted foot and crutches. “Fuck off, Davo,” Dylan called back as he stumbled for the third time, not turning around. 

“Am I dropping you off at home?” Connor asked once they were back in the car.

“I guess. How are we explaining this?” Dylan replied, pointing at his foot. “My parents think I’m asleep in my room right now.” When Dylan’s grades had started suffering in January from the amount of time he was spending with Connor instead of doing homework, their parents had made it clear that spending the night at each other’s house wasn’t allowed on week nights. The two had made it since then without being caught, but Dylan’s ankle made it harder to hide their sneaking from their parents all of a sudden. “And it’s not like I can even get back into my house without going through the front door.”

Connor hesitated, glancing over at Dylan in the passenger seat. “I have no idea. I just told my parents you had an emergency so you called me.”

“You don’t get a grade II ankle sprain from falling out of bed in the middle of the night, Davo. And they would have heard me if I fucking fell down the stairs or something.”

“Matt still has that bunk bed in his room. Would he cover for you, say you fell off the top bunk or something?”

Dylan shrugged, “Maybe. Matty's hit or miss with treating me like I'm actually his brother or like I'm a nuisance but I think I could convince him.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, then dialed Matt's number. He called three times in the span of their ride home before Matt finally picked up the phone, and by then Connor had pulled into Dylan's driveway. 

“What am I doing?” Connor asked.

“Matty,” Dylan said over him when Matt answered the phone. “Do you remember how I covered for you last week when you got home from that party past curfew?”

“What about it?” Connor heard as he helped Dylan out of the car. “And why the fuck did you call me at three am if you're down the hall?”

“Because I'm not, you dip. Meet me downstairs,” Dylan huffed, hanging up to try to help Connor get him inside. 

Matt was stumbling down the stairs when Dylan and Connor got inside, and his eyes widened when he saw Dylan's crutches and boot. “I don't want to know how it happened, just. What am I telling Mom and Dad?” 

“I fell of the top bunk in your room. I called Connor to take me to the hospital so they wouldn't freak out and you stayed home in case one of them woke up.”

Matt shook his head. “If they believe that, you seriously owe me,” he said, already heading back upstairs. “Help your boyfriend to his room, McDouchebag, we have school in four hours.”

Connor blushed, avoiding Dylan's gaze until he heard Matt shut the door to his room, then Dylan gave up on trying to get Connor to look at him and headed for the stairs. Connor kept his hand on Dylan's back as he hobbled up the stairs, and got him situated in bed before he figured he was okay to leave. “You need anything before I leave?”

Dylan shook his head, “Thank you.” Connor smiled, pushing Dylan's hair out of his eyes before he realized what he was doing. He pulled his hand away abruptly. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow—or, today, I guess? You know what I mean.”

Dylan laughed, bunching his hand in Connor's shirt with a dopey grin. “Yeah.”

-

“Did your parents buy it?” Connor asked in lieu of a hello when he found Dylan in the hall by his locker before school the next day. 

“My mom waited for me to crack and tell her the truth, I think, but Matty backed me up. Ryan didn't believe it for a second, he cornered me in the hall before we left.”

Connor laughed. Dylan was taller than Ryan, but what the oldest Strome lacked him height, he made up for in a scary sense of maturity. Connor thought he had probably been spending too much time with Johnny since he had gotten home from university for spring break. 

“How are you feeling besides that?”

“Okay, I guess, it stopped throbbing an hour or two after you left so I could get another hour or two of sleep. These crutches are a pain in my ass, though.”

“It'll only be a couple weeks, Dyl-”

“Stromer! What the hell happened to you?” Mitch interrupted, yelling from the other end of the hall. 

As Mitch came up to them, Dylan sighed, dropping his head to rest on Connor’s shoulder. “I fell last night, it’s just a sprain, though.”

Mitch shot a glance at Connor who had just managed to regain his composure. “Right. I’m gonna go look for Auston, see you guys in fourth period.”

Connor huffed, then looked down at Dylan to see his eyes were closed. “Hey,” Connor said softly, poking him in the arm.

“I’m so tired,” Dylan mumbled, stirring but not opening his eyes. “How are you even functioning right now?”

“I didn’t fall out of a window,” Connor said, pulling Dylan into his side by his waist. He knew his response was a little lame, but he actually was really tired, too, and it was too early to focus on clever replies. “Did you eat?” Connor asked because between him and Dylan, he would always be the mom friend. 

“No, I overslept so I didn’t have time to get anything.” Connor nodded, then pulled a protein bar out of one of the pockets of his backpack. 

“This is why you’re my favorite,” Dylan said, opening the wrapper and eating without moving from Connor’s side. Connor, meanwhile, tried not to think too much about Dylan’s comment as the first bell rang.

Connor grabbed Dylan’s crutches from where they were leaning against his locker next to them, then walked him to the elevator. “I’ll see you fourth period?” Dylan nodded as he called for the elevator with the key he must have gotten from the nurse before Connor had gotten to school. “Be careful with those things, alright, Stromer?” Connor tried to joke, nudging Dylan’s shoulder. 

Dylan smiled, shaking his head at him. “Yes, mom,” he deadpanned, but he shouldered Connor in the chest as he hopped into the elevator and Connor had to look away so he couldn’t see him blush. 

-

Connor walked into fourth period to see Mitch perched on Dylan’s desk while he hounded him with questions that he couldn’t hear from the doorway. But Dylan looked exhausted trying to keep up with him and Connor decided he needed to step in before someone started yelling at the other. Dylan perked up when he saw Connor coming over, looking relieved when Mitch stopped talking long enough to look behind him to see what Dylan had. “Hey,” Connor murmured, dropping into the desk next to Dylan. “You doing okay?”

Dylan snorted, “I’d be better if Marns would shut up.”

 _“-Hey!”_ Mitch screeched, throwing himself into their conversation. Connor rolled his eyes jokingly, spinning in his seat to face the front of the room when he saw the teacher come in.

Dylan poked him as Mitch slid off the desk and dropped into the seat in front of Connor. “Thanks, Davo.”

-

Within a week, Dylan was off the crutches and left with only a walking boot. But while Dylan’s ankle had been getting better, his attitude had been in a downward spiral. He pouted when Connor would decide to go to a stick and puck time with some of the other guys after school instead of going home to do homework together. Then, he’d sulk for the entire time in the rink over the homework spread around him in the bleachers when he inevitably went with Connor anyway. 

“This isn’t healthy, Stromer. Get away from hockey for a bit while you’re out of commission,” Connor said on their way home from the third time this had happened. 

“What am I supposed to do, go home and brood over my homework while you’re at the rink with the guys having fun? You’re supposed to be my best friend, Connor, not Brinksy’s.”

“Dylan, do you realize how bad I feel when I look up in the stands and I see you alone doing homework or when I see you limping down the hall with that stupid boot, while I pretend that the whole reason you’re injured isn’t completely my fault?”

“Davo-”

“Look, I get that you’re upset you’re out for a while still but it’s the offseason. And don’t pull the best friend card on me when all I’ve done the past two weeks is make sure you’re okay,” Connor snapped, thankful that they were at the entrance to Dylan’s neighborhood because he wasn’t sure he didn’t have another outburst in him.

“I’m sorry,” was all Dylan said to him, not meeting Connor’s gaze, before he got out of the car and went inside. 

Connor could remember vividly the few times he and Dylan had gotten into real arguments, and none of them had been pretty. They tended to turn into a screaming match until one of them finally started listening to the other and they worked it out. But that was never easy, considering how stubborn they both were, and sometimes their fights dragged on for days. Most of the time, their chemistry on the ice reflected their moods toward each other and the team knew when to back off and avoid getting caught in the middle. 

There had been petty fights littered all throughout the first part of the school year when they were still getting to know each other—stupid spats about plays on the ice or a math problem they both insisted they were right on. Those usually devolved into a shoving match until one of them ended up on the floor laughing. Their real fights were nothing like that, and Connor was thankful Dylan had kept his cool and this disagreement hadn’t morphed into something much worse like it easily could have.

-

Dylan was over the boot within two weeks, and he was back on the ice without it a week before he probably should have been, but Connor had made him promise not to do anything stupid. Which was why they were alone in the rink during the free ice slot after the team’s Friday stick and puck. 

He and Connor had never actually apologized to each other after their fight. They both had just acted like it had never happened when Connor came up to Dylan by his locker the next morning. Connor had pretty much gotten over it himself, but he’d be lying if he said it still didn’t bother him that Dylan had been so insecure in their friendship just because of some dumb injury. Even if Connor felt something so much more, Dylan had been and always would be his best friend if he could help it. 

“How does it feel so far?” Connor called from his spot perched on the boards of one of the benches as Dylan took a few laps. 

“Like I never left,” Dylan said coming to a stop in front of him. “You think I’ll be back with the team on Monday?” 

Connor shrugged, “It’s up to you. Just, please, don’t over do it?”

“I won’t,” Dylan said, rolling his eyes. Repositioning his stick in his hands, he took off to the other end of the ice. “You coming, Davo?” he yelled behind him, laughing. 

-

Within an hour, Dylan had worn himself out, so they headed off the ice and dropped into their stalls side by side to take off their skates and pack up before going home. Dylan had gone quiet compared to the first half of their ice time and Connor elbowed him to get his attention once his skates were back with the rest of the gear in his bag. “Dyls?”

“Huh? Oh, sorry, did I zone out?”

“A little. What’s up?”

“Can I ask you something?” Dylan said, sitting up. Connor shrugged so he took that as his cue to go. “I was an asshole the past few weeks, why didn’t you ever tell me to fuck off?”

Connor stopped himself from rushing out an excuse, but he could feel his face heat up and he was sure he was already bright red. Before he could say anything, though, Dylan was talking again.

“Mitch said—Mitch said you were being so careful with taking care of me and making sure I wasn’t dying with that fucking boot on my foot because you’re in love with me.” Connor sputtered, still completely unable to make himself say anything. “Which, like—it’s not a problem? If you even are in love with me.”

“Hold on, _what?”_ Connor finally managed. It was Dylan’s turn to blush. 

“Like, you’ve been my best friend this whole year, but a few of the guys—not even just Mitch, hell, even Jack said something about it—but they all kept saying how much we act like a couple? And I guess the more I thought about it, the more okay I got with the idea of calling you my boyfriend.”

“Dyls-” 

“And I might have just made this really weird because I don’t even know how you feel about all of this but I had to get it out or-” 

“Dylan, you’re so dumb,” Connor said, and then he was kissing him. They were in an awkward position, trying to get as close as possible without breaking apart, but with the wall that divided their stalls digging into Connor’s side. So Connor hauled Dylan up out of his seat and pulled him into his own, half on the bench and half in Connor’s lap. He leaned back in to reconnect their lips, but Dylan was laughing too hard for it to be a proper kiss. Connor smiled, dropping his head back against the back of his stall just to watch Dylan’s shoulders shake. 

Once Dylan calmed down, he met Connor’s eyes with a fond look. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Dyls.” They sat, staring at each other in the silence of the locker room for another minute, “Can we go home now? I'm exhausted.”

Dylan smiled, “Only if you’re the one that has to jump out of a window when we wake up at one in the morning.”

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly I told myself I would chill with these two but I got this idea a few days ago and here we are


End file.
